


Ship to Wreck

by glitterandgin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Break ups and make ups, Infidelity, M/M, Modern AU, basically standard fare from me except for the modern au bit, bipolar!Anders, dramatic hand-holding, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandgin/pseuds/glitterandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They dated. They broke up. It had seemed so simple, until a phone call one winter night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He almost didn’t notice his phone buzzing in his coat pocket. If he hadn’t shifted in his seat ever so slightly, tugging his coat closer to his body, he probably would have missed the call entirely. Instead, he managed to answer the phone right before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“May I speak to Nathaniel Howe?” The voice on the other end of the phone was brisk but sweet, imbued with a liveliness that only existed at the beginnings of shifts. He could practically imagine the flawless makeup and personalized coffee mug that came with that sort of voice.

“This is he,” he said, standing and walking to the cafe foyer. 

“This is Elya. I’m calling from Divine Ambrosia’s Regional Medical Centre concerning Anders. He was brought into the emergency room at 9:30 tonight. You’re listed as his emergency contact on his phone?”

Nathaniel swallowed, and it felt like someone had poured chalk dust down his throat. He wanted to argue the last sentence, but instead he found himself saying, “I’ll be on my way. Thank you.”

He left enough money on the table to cover the cost of his coffee and eggs and jogged down the street, snow crunching underneath his weathered snow boots. The winter air stung his nose and throat as he sucked in breath after breath, each one shallower than the last. Snow poured from the sky as though it were being tossed down by a malevolent celestial being. A flake landed in his eye, momentarily obscuring his vision. He slipped on a patch of ice, sliding down the pavement until he skidded into a bus stop bench. Gingerly, he stood and dusted himself off before resuming running a little slower and more stiffly than before. 

The reception area of Divine Ambrosia Regional Health Centre must have been decorated by someone who was red-green colourblind. It was the only explanation for a burgundy desk with acid green accents, paired with vomit green carpet and walls and matching plastic chairs so aggressively red that they put Kirkwall’s heraldry to shame. Squinting slightly and painfully aware of the snow that slid off his coat and onto the floor, Nathaniel approached the receptionist.

“Excuse me. I’m Nathaniel Howe. I’m here to see Anders,” he said, choking on the last word. 

The receptionist gave him directions to the emergency room, barely looking up from her paperwork. By the time Nathaniel had reached the emergency room, Anders had been moved to a room on the sixth floor. As he stepped into the lift and pressed the appropriate button, the eggs he’d ordered formed a boulder in his stomach. The fluorescent hospital lights stung his eyes, burning through his retinas and into his mind until it had been scorched clean of any thought. He stepped out of the lift and onto the sixth floor in a cocoon of mental and emotional numbness. 

The hallway was empty as he turned seemingly countless corners until he arrived at Anders’ room. He stood just outside of the doorway for almost a minute before squaring his shoulders and entering.

Anders lay in a bed with his eyes closed, the harsh light washing the colour out of his skin. His right cheek and eye were swollen and bruised, and his lower lip was split. He was hooked up to an IV and some sort of monitor, and he stirred slightly as Nathaniel approached his bed.

“Anders,” Nathaniel said, the name foreign and clunky on his tongue. 

Anders opened his eyes--or attempted to, at least. Only his left eye fully cooperated. He frowned and swallowed twice before saying, “Nate… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Apparently I’m your emergency contact,” Nathaniel said, his tone the vocal equivalent of a demilitarized zone. 

“I must have forgotten to change that,” Anders said, blood trickling from where he’d reopened the cut on his lip. He didn’t move to wipe it away, and Nathaniel stifled the desire to grab a tissue and take care of it for him. 

“It’s been two years.”

“Slipped my mind,” Anders said, his voice thin. He shook his head and scooted up a little in bed so he was almost sitting up, looking mildly nauseous as he did so. “You can leave now, if you like. You’ve done your job. I’m not dying, and I’m sure you have somewhere else to be. I’ll change my emergency contact information when I have a chance to charge my phone, all right?”

“What happened to you?” Nathaniel said, almost reaching for Anders’ hand. 

Anders shrugged. “You know. Life.”

Nathaniel frowned and waited for Anders to elaborate. There’d never been any secrets between them, even towards the end. For some reason, he couldn’t imagine them starting now, during their brief reunion.

Anders sighed. “I may have drank too much. I passed out, someone panicked and took me to the hospital. Standard fare.”

“Are you on the same meds as before?”

“Watch out for Dr Nathaniel Howe,” Anders said with what would have sounded like sarcasm if it wasn’t eclipsed by his incredibly audible nausea. When Nathaniel didn’t respond, he added, “Same meds, higher dosage.”

“You should have known better,” Nathaniel said, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Clearly a byproduct of Anders wasting both of their time in the stupidest way imaginable. Anders knew the side effects of his medication by this point; what could possibly lead him to do something as unfathomably,  _ stupidly _ self-destructive as this? Nathaniel crossed his arms to hide the fact that his hands had begun to shake at his sides. “Anders, I could have los--”

“Could have...?” Anders said, attempting to raise an eyebrow and wincing. 

“Forget it. I’m glad you’re not dying. Try to avoid doing so in the future,” he said, turning his head to face the wall. 

“No promises,” Anders muttered. He sighed. “Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to. I just--I’d like to sleep now, if that’s all right with you.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Stay safe, Anders.”

As he walked out the room and into the hall, he could have sworn he heard a choked sob coming from behind him. He shook his head, swallowed the lump that had begun forming in his throat when he turned to leave, and walked to the lift, determined to put the incident out of his head. 


	2. Hurricane Drunk

The pub was nestled between a realtor’s office and an all-night Rivaini takeaway restaurant. With windows tinted by decades’ worth of tobacco smoke and no sign out front to speak of, the creatively named Public House all but paid people not to take notice of it. Despite this, a decently sized crowd had settled in by the time Anders had arrived, exhausted from a day at the clinic but unwilling to stay home. He ordered his drink and took a seat near the back of the room, staring at his fellow patrons without actually noticing them until a blur of blue and silver caught his attention.  He’d know that coat anywhere, having given it to its owner. Sure enough, there was Nathaniel, standing three feet away at the bar and completely unaware of Anders’ presence. Anders took a long gulp of his drink, unable to tear his eyes away from the back of Nathaniel’s head. Nathaniel turned, and for a brief moment of terrified hope, he thought he’d been spotted. He sat up a little straighter, barely breathing as Nathaniel looked right through him and turned his attention to the ginger man to his left. Nathaniel smiled at something the man said, squeezing his shoulder and leaning closer. Anders watched as they received their drinks and took a table to the left of him, and it felt like his heart was slowly being tugged out of his chest with a fishing hook. Nathaniel laughed at something his companion--boyfriend? Had they come in together? Anders had been too distracted by his drink to notice--said, and Anders downed the rest of his drink. 

Three drinks later, Nathaniel and his companion had left (arms wound around each other’s waists like they were the protagonists in a bloody rom-com), Anders’ head had gone swimmy, and his heart had stuffed rocks in its pockets before jumping into the deepest part of a river. He couldn’t recall getting up--much less making it across the floor to the bar--but there was a full glass in front of him, so it stood to reason that he must have managed. Things got a little hazy after that.

There were more drinks, more than he bothered to properly keep track of. His face had gone numb, and his stomach protested every breath he took. With legs that felt like sandbags and wobbled liked cooked noodles, he stood and walked to the toilet. He’d only just managed to enter a cubicle when his knees buckled and everything went black. 

And then Nathaniel was there, standing next to his hospital bed with an expression like  _ he  _ was the one who’d been scraped off a bloody pub floor, like  _ his _ stomach had exploded into a geyser of acid and pain that permeated every cell of his body, completely unaware of the fact that the entire situation was his fault. It was enough to make Anders wish he could throw up again, just in hopes that he’d feel a little less miserable afterwards. 

“Do you need us to call a cab?” the nurse, a young woman with a moonlike face said, crouching to face him once she’d wheeled him into the lobby. 

Anders shook his head and shifted in the wheelchair, wondering if she’d let him stand. Probably not. “I have someone coming for me. He’ll be here soon; I’ll wait outside.”

She looked dubious, but pushed him closer to the doors. A red car slowed to a stop just outside of the hospital. 

“There he is,” Anders said, already up before he’d finished his sentence. For a brief, panicked moment, he thought he was going to faint again, but he forced his feet to keep moving until he was outside. The car had driven off just as he’d reached the pavement. With a bitter smile, he tightened the belt of his coat around his waist and began shuffling back to his clinic. 


	3. Landscape

“What took you so long?” Kent said as Nathaniel entered the bedroom, his voice muffled by several layers of blankets. 

Nathaniel finished changing into his pyjamas, a set of navy blue silk bottoms and a matching button-down shirt. They’d been folded and shoved in the back of his dresser drawer for almost two years, completely forgotten until now. They still smelled faintly like mint and homemade health poultices, a lingering reminder of who had given them to Nathaniel. He undid his braids and said, “I got a call from the hospital. One of my friends was brought in, and I’m his emergency contact.”

Kent sat up a little, his hair tousled so he resembled nothing so much as a ginger dandelion. He squinted at Nathaniel, groggy but concerned. “Oh, Maker. I’m so sorry. Is he all right?”

Nathaniel climbed into bed beside him and said, “He’ll be fine. It was just a scare. I should probably check on him tomorrow, though.”

He didn’t know why he’d said that. The words came out unbidden, spoken before he’d thought them through. But once he’d said it, he knew he was going to see Anders again. 

Kent switched off the bedside light and kissed Nathaniel. “You’re such a good friend. He’s lucky to have you.”

Nathaniel nestled under the covers and fell asleep with the smell and thoughts of Anders wrapped around him. 

#

He almost wished Anders hadn’t been discharged from the hospital so soon. While he certainly didn’t want Anders’ condition to be more serious than what it had seemed, the hospital room would have granted a degree of emotional detachment from his visit that he couldn’t hope to get by visiting Anders in his clinic. And, a small, almost inaudible voice in the back of his mind said, if Anders was still in the hospital then the chances of further harm coming to him were greatly lessened. 

Instead, Nathaniel found himself lingering four feet away from Anders’ clinic, editing the mental script he’d composed on the walk there.  _ How are you?  _ That was a good start. After all, it’d only been a few days ago that Anders had lain in a hospital bed with half his face covered in bruises. He’d developed writer’s block shortly after formulating that question, however, and every method of continuing the conversation rang flat before he’d even reached the end of the hypothetical sentences. 

He shook his head, dispersing a thin layer of snow that had formed on him as he’d stood there. This was a mistake. It’d be best to turn around and go home before he did something he’d regret. But even as he thought that, the memory of Anders in the hospital bed returned unbidden to the front of his mind, and he was beginning to suspect that he wouldn’t be able to shake it until they spoke again. Best to get it over with, and then pretend the past few days hadn’t happened. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and resumed walking. He was just outside of the door when he skidded on a patch of ice, landing hard on his left ankle. 

“Shit,” he said through gritted teeth as he pulled himself up using the clinic’s windowsill. As he half-limped, half-dragged himself along using the building’s brick walls, his ankle sent sharp, electric bursts of pain through his body until he was barely breathing. 

“Nate?” Anders said as he entered the clinic. Half of Anders’ face was still mottled purple and green, and his right eye was still mostly swollen shut, but his expression of confusion and irritation was unmistakable. Then he glanced down at Nathaniel’s ankle and nodded briskly, wrapping an arm around his torso and helping him limp to a cot. “What happened?”

“Ice,” Nathaniel said, the word little more than a grunt of pain. 

“You know, most people wait until  _ after _ they’re injured to apply the ice,” Anders said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards briefly. “Can you roll up your trouser leg and take your boot off?”

Nathaniel complied, biting the inside of his cheek in pain as his ankle throbbed at the motion. Anders squeezed his shoulder with a warm smile before retracting his hand suddenly and spinning on his heel, suddenly entranced by his stock of elastic bandages. When he turned to face Nathaniel again, his expression had gone flat.

“Don’t you live on the other side of the city?” Anders said as he began wrapping the bandages around Nathaniel’s ankle.

“Yes…” he said, staring at the seafoam green walls. The portrait he’d commissioned of Anders’ cat in a field of red poppies still hung on the back wall, just opposite of the door. 

“What brings you to this part of town, then?” Anders said, fastening the bandage together. 

Nathaniel swallowed, his gaze still glued to the walls. “I came to check up on you,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. 

Anders froze, his hands resting lightly on Nathaniel’s ankle. “You didn’t have to. I’m fine.”

“You were in a hospital bed the last time I saw you. I didn’t want that to be my most recent memory of you,” Nathaniel said, tearing his eyes away from the wall to look at Anders. Even through the heavy layer of bruising, he’d remained attractive, and that only made it harder to maintain eye contact. It was like looking at a vandalized masterpiece, and some strange, illogical part of him couldn’t help but feel that he was to blame.

“Right, because the one before that was so much better,” Anders said, crossing his arms. “Your ankle’s bandaged, and you’ve found a replacement memory. Do you need help getting to the door?”

Nathaniel pulled his shoe back on and slowly lowered himself off the cot and onto his feet, placing most of the weight on his good foot. “I think I can manage. How much do I owe you?”

Anders shook his head and began walking away from the cot. “Be safe, Nate.”

Nathaniel stood there for several seconds, watching as Anders undid and redid his ponytail four times in a row, his hands shaking more each time--a nervous habit he’d had even before they’d started dating. A sudden, aching desire to walk over and help him built up in Nathaniel’s throat, but he pushed it back down into his stomach, where it could melt into the puddle of directionless longing that had existed there for longer than he’d cared to say. 

He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, Anders” before limping out of the clinic and onto the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter title comes from this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbta9I3exjE


	4. Remain Nameless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I updated! I was trying to get this up in time for Valentine's, but that clearly didn't happen. I hope you enjoy it all the same, and thanks for reading!

“Don’t tell me you sprained your other ankle,” Anders said as Nathaniel entered the clinic two days later. 

Nathaniel elected not to mention that it had been a close call several times on his walk over. Instead, he said, “Are you busy?”

“I’m at  _ work _ ,” Anders said. He shook his head, his ponytail loosening slightly as he did so, and said, “Why?”

“I’d like to take you out for coffee,” Nathaniel said, focusing on each syllable separately rather than the sentence as a whole. As a result, his delivery sounded as though he were auditioning for a C-movie written in a language he’d never heard of. 

Anders blinked, wincing slightly as he did so. He let out a small, aborted laugh and said, “It’s a shame you had to wait until now to find a sense of humour.”

Nathaniel frowned slightly and said, “I’m serious. When are you free?”

Anders looked around his mostly empty clinic and said, “Let me grab my coat.”

They walked side by side, Anders slowing down whenever it seemed like he’d pass Nathaniel. After a few minutes, they’d fallen into step as naturally as though they’d been doing so every day. Anders’ fingers brushed against Nathaniel’s as his arms swung in time with his steps, and Nathaniel stopped breathing momentarily. Anders crammed his hands in his jacket pockets and looked across the street. 

The café hadn’t been redecorated since they’d hosted an event for a society of rich morticians, so the walls were plastered with paper cutouts of skulls in fluorescent pink and green, and one of the baristas had propped up a plastic skeleton in one of the booths and placed an empty coffee mug in front of it. 

“So... how have you been?” Nathaniel said as Anders poured sugar into his coffee. 

Anders continued stirring his coffee for several seconds before saying, “Why are you doing this?”

Nathaniel paused with his mug halfway to his mouth. He set it down and said, “Is there a rule that says we can’t talk?”

“There may as well be, after two years. Did you suddenly decide you’re not ashamed of me? Because your boyfriend and I would probably agree that it’s a little too late,” Anders said with a tight, bitter attempt at a smile. 

“I was never ashamed of you,” Nathaniel said, shocked at how forcefully the words had come out. After a second, he added, “How did you know about Kent?”

“I saw you in the pub a few days ago,” Anders said with a shrug that was the epitome of forced nonchalance. 

Nathaniel blinked, mentally reviewed his activities from the past week. As far as he could remember, he and Kent had only gone out drinking once. Kent had run into one of his old friends and gone off with him, and Nathaniel had been left to sober up alone. And then… shit. That was the night the hospital had called, wasn’t it? But there was no way the two things were related. They couldn’t be. Shit.

He reached out and placed his and on top of Anders’. “Anders…”

“Don’t,” Anders said, taking his hand away. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

Nathaniel took Anders’ hand again, just barely holding it. This time, Anders let him. “Why am I still your emergency contact?”

Anders’ hand shook slightly in his. “I told you. I forgot to change it. Do you want me to fix that now? Would that make you feel better?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Nathaniel said, squeezing Anders’ hand before catching himself and loosening his grip. He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I haven’t been able to think straight since I saw you in that hospital bed. I just want to know you’re okay. I know we didn’t part on the best terms, but I still care about you.”

Anders closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut before opening them again. “I should go.”

Nathaniel nodded, releasing Anders’s hand. As he stood and prepared to leave, Nathaniel said, “Keep me as your emergency contact. Please.”

Anders pursed his lips, but gave a terse nod. “I care about you, too, Nate. I hope you’re happy with him.”

Before Nathaniel could respond, Anders was out the door. 

#

There was a car parked in the spot reserved for Nathaniel and Kent. This wasn’t too surprising, considering they never used it and the signs promising the towing of unauthorised vehicles were only slightly more threatening than a neighbourhood watch run entirely by octogenarians with catalepsy, but Nathaniel still paused to study the newly waxed red coupe before climbing the stairs to his door. 

He tripped over a pair of new trainers as he entered the foyer. He looked around for Kent’s guest, but the common room was unoccupied. Shrugging, he kicked off his own shoes and made his way to the bedroom. He was about to push the door open when a flash of movement through the crack in the door made him freeze. Lying in bed, oblivious to his presence and tangled naked together, was Kent and his guest. 


	5. You've Got the Love

“Nate?” The word tasted strange on Anders’ lips, muddled with sleep and already going a little numb from the breeze, which blew snow in through his open door as he waited for an explanation. 

Nathaniel scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing his fingers against his temples and just standing like that for a moment before saying, “Kent is cheating on me.”

Anders stepped aside and gestured for Nathaniel to follow him indoors. When they were both in the foyer, he nudged the door shut and took Nathaniel’s wrists. “What happened?”

Nathaniel shook his head and began relaying the events in a tone as still and chilled as the barren trees planted throughout the city. When he’d finished, his arms trembled slightly in Anders’ grip. Anders released his wrists and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Nathaniel went stiff for a second before relaxing into the hug, squeezing Anders until he thought he could hear his ribs creak under the pressure. Nathaniel buried his face in Anders’ neck and let out a soft, almost inaudible sob, and Anders’ throat burned in sympathetic sorrow and rage. 

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Nathaniel’s phone buzzed. He stepped back and dug his phone out of his coat pocket, frowning as he studied the screen. 

“It’s from Kent,” he said, sounding as though he’d attempted to swallow a mouthful of sand. “He’s breaking up with me.”

Anders gestured for Nathaniel to hand him the phone. He bit his cheek so hard he drew blood as he read the message: “i think we should break up. it’s me, not you. it was fun.” 

Swallowing the blood and just enough fury to be able to speak coherently, he said, “That bastard never deserved you in the first place. Is there anything I can do to help? I have a couch, if you want to stay the night. I know it’s not much, but--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Nathaniel had surged forward and crushed his lips against Anders’. For a brief, blissfully blank moment, he allowed himself to sink into the kiss, gently cupping Nathaniel’s cheek. As his fingertips met Nathaniel’s flesh, however, his mind snapped back to the present and he broke the kiss. 

Nathaniel frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I should go.”

Anders grabbed Nathaniel’s hand as he began to turn towards the door. “Don’t go. I just… I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I swear, I won’t. I only regret that it took this long for us to reach this point again,” Nathaniel said, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he stepped close to Anders once more. He placed a hand on the back of Anders’ neck and stroked the nape with his thumb. 

Anders’ breath died in his lungs as his lips parted slightly, leaning forward until there was little more than a hair’s breadth between them. The few reservations he had left evaporated as he wrapped his arms around Nathaniel’s neck and closed the gap between them. 

They kissed like the snow outside: gentle and silent as they slowly built up momentum until the world around them seemed completely different by the time they’d separated. 

Anders licked his lips and toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen into his face. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch, if you don’t want,” he said, his gaze flitting in the direction of his bedroom before he resumed studying Nathaniel. 

Nathaniel smiled and trailed his hand down Anders’ neck to the small of his back. “As comfortable as I remember your couch being, your latest offer sounds much better.”

“I thought it would,” Anders said, leaning forward so he was pressed flush against Nathaniel. Nathaniel clutched the back of Anders’ shirt, toying with the waistband of Anders’ boxers with his free hand. After an attempt to separate that resulted in them resuming their kiss with a sense of certainty that hadn’t been present previously, Anders moved back just enough to speak; when he did so, his voice was little more than the barest hint of sound. “Right. Bedroom.”

Nathaniel nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of Anders’ mouth before they disentangled themselves. Anders took Nathaniel’s hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom; despite the fact that he undoubtedly remembered where the bedroom was, Anders was reluctant to relinquish all physical contact during the short trip. 

When they reached the bedroom, Nathaniel placed his hands on Anders’ hips and gently turned him so they were facing one another once again. He slipped his hands under Anders’ shirt, his hands still slightly chilled from the outdoors but quickly warming once they’d made contact with his skin. Anders gasped as Nathaniel scratched his spine lightly, fumbling with the buttons of Nathaniel’s coat until they were undone. Nathaniel stepped back and began to strip, his hands as clumsy as Anders’ had been. Anders hesitated for half a second before following suit. His shirt got stuck over his head and he lost his balance, stumbling forward into Nathaniel’s arms and toppling him backwards onto the bed. 

“Sorry,” Anders said, tugging his shirt all the way off and propping himself up on his elbows. Just as he moved to get up, Nathaniel took hold of his hips again, slowly pushing his boxers down before kneading his ass. Anders ground down against him, eliciting a low, throaty moan. 

“Please,” Nathaniel said, the word dragging into an inarticulate groan as Anders rocked against him again. “ _ Please _ tell me you have everything.”

Anders nodded. “Bedside table, as always.”

Nathaniel dug his nails into Anders’ hips before allowing him to get up and fetch the lube and a condom. He reached to take them from Anders’ hand, but Anders moved them out of his reach.

“Before we continue, I need to be absolutely certain that you won’t regret this tomorrow” he said, his voice catching as a thought occurred to him. “What if Kent changes his mind in the morning? I don’t think I could handle it if you decide this was a mistake.”

Nathaniel cupped Anders’ chin with one hand and kissed him, their lips just barely brushing together. “I promise, that’s not going to happen.”

Anders smiled shakily and let him take the supplies, leaning back on his elbows and letting his eyes fall shut as Nathaniel pressed a finger into him. 

“Anders,” Nathaniel said, his voice fragile. “Look at me.”

He opened his eyes slowly, nearly closing them again in shock at the look of pure adoration on Nathaniel’s face. His expression was potent enough to stop hearts, and Anders wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t stopped his. If love was luminous, he would have gone blind from one second of eye contact with Nathaniel.

They moved with the delicate deliberation of lovers determined to relearn every inch of one another’s bodies, and when Nathaniel kissed Anders’ neck, lightning surged through his veins. Anders buried his hands in Nathaniel’s hair, letting the strands slip and weave through his fingers. They finished in tandem, the air heavy and electric with unspoken declarations of forgiveness and love. 

Anders frowned as Nathaniel moved off of him, but after pulling the covers up Nathaniel soon nestled behind him, an arm slung over his waist. He fell asleep in record time.

He woke the next morning with a pang of anxiety as sharp as sunlight on a hungover morning. The space behind him, while still warm with leftover body heat, was vacant. Eyes screwed tight to prolong facing the painful truth, he strained his ears for any sound of Nathaniel. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“I know you’re awake,” Nathaniel said, his voice tinged with amusement. 

Anders sat up, looking anywhere but at Nathaniel. “Sleep well?”

“About last night--”

Anders stiffened, bracing himself for words he’d almost convinced himself he wouldn’t hear. “Right--”

“I’m glad I came to you. I know we didn’t end on the best terms, and I just got out of a relationship, but I was wondering if you’d like to give us another try,” he said, taking Anders’ hands. “What do you say?”

Anders looked at his hands and back up at Nathaniel, waiting for his brain to catch up to Nathaniel’s words. His tongue seemed to have slithered down to his kidneys. After several attempts at forming recognizable words, he simply nodded. 

Nathaniel brought Anders’ hands to his mouth and kissed them. “Get dressed. I’d like to take my new boyfriend out for breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, you guys. I'm so sorry it took me this long to finish this fic (over a month since my last update! Can you believe it?). Long story short, there were issues of basically every kind except for the variety involving thermonuclear war, and I honestly considered just not updating this because I figured nobody was reading it anymore, but hey--here it is, finished for the world to see. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and thank you so much for taking interest in my writing.


End file.
